


black gold

by thetormentita



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Angst, Braime for the win!, F/F, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Not much love towards some Targaryens, lots of swearing, sex mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:28:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26975167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetormentita/pseuds/thetormentita
Summary: After the War for the Living, Westeros rejected the ruling of Dowager Queen Mother Cersei Lannister and the one of Daenerys Targaryen and divided itself into five different parts under the rule of five women in a pact known as the Pact of the Five Queens. Three decades later, things are about to change.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister & Brienne of Tarth
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

_Lys, 331 AC_

They aren’t supposed to be there, but— Who cares? They have enough time to negotiate with the head of the Free Bank of Lys and have fun in one of the most controversial and tempting pillow house of the Free Cities. The small group had come into one with the best reputation on Essos, and she wasn’t quite sure about how much time they had spent there.

Only dressed with a thin silk robe borrowed from one of the workers there, with her long black mane of hair falling free over her shoulders and barefoot, Meredyth Baratheon leaves the chamber where two sumptuous women are feasting over a tray with different types of food. As she walks, workers of the pleasure house are pampering customers from different places, as similar one from the next as two snowflakes; behind closed doors moans can be heard, and a sort of enticing musky smell floods the place, with light curtains covering the windows to fly away from the boiling sun from outside.

At one of the corners there is a small sort of counter and a huge eunuch behind it, with a very stern face, who nods when Meredyth leans against it and puts five aspers on it. The silver coins shine showing those carvings of naked women against the dark wood, and she likes the idea of a sort of reminder of the difference of the Baratheon colours. In a quite decent Bastard Valyrian taught by her father —the beloved cousin that never had the chance to get legitimated by the new Storm Queen—, she orders for her and her two paid lovers.

“It’s on me, my lady” a voice makes her turn her head, with a raised eyebrow and an amused smirk on her lips.

The owner of that voice approaches her, only dressed with his pants, clearly unshaved and also barefoot. When he is next to her, he gives the big bald man around half a dozen of golden dragons and observes her in a way not precisely bashful.

“You like what you see?”

"I should be blind to not like what I see" he licks his lips, with that daring smile upon his face "You are not Lysene, am I wrong?" she wrinkles her nose unconsciously and tilts her head slightly as he switches to Common Tongue "Your accent, sweetling.”

“You like my accent as well, m’lord?” she approaches him, even more, and bits her lower lip “You have a good ear— And other things too” she stands tiptoe, getting closer to his ear “Name’s Sharra, good sir. But you can call me however you want.”

He clearly isn’t a worker there, and what was more exciting for her is the fact that he mistook her by a prostitute. For a moment she remembers about the stories of that Dragonborn lady that flew to Lys and became a whore with a great reputation following her, and wonders if he would get the reference to the name she had given herself.

“Such a temptress you are, sweet Sharra” his hand goes to her waist, almost naïve, doubtful “Come with me. I’ll give you twice the money you receive from a regular customer” his voice is low, almost a grunt, and she would never recognize how it turns her on.

“M’lady” one of her paid lovers appears there, completely naked, with a smooth lysene accent “Is everything okay? Is this man bothering you?”

The man raises an eyebrow at the interruption, and is clearly surprised when Meredyth licks her lips and approaches the prostitute. As she takes what the three of them wanted to keep their pampering, he seems somewhat shocked.

“Better luck next time, my lord” she laughs and returns to the chamber with her fingers twirled with the blonde beauty.

_King’s Landing, 331 AC_

“To be honest, lady Lanna, I have to say that I expected to meet you in a place different like this one” 

The old woman’s lips curve in a crooked smile.

“I'm quite sure you want for your beloved grandchildren the same as I do for my sons and my daughter"

Lanna Velaryon is a really interesting woman. Smart, cunning and eagle-eyed, she had surely learnt from the cleverest minds of the Vale of Arryn, and flown from Heart's Home to a certainly more pleasant Driftmark, where the almost all male Velaryons received her as the most precious gift on the Known World.

"Give me a proper reason I would send one of my granddaughters to Driftmark or Heart's Home, my lady. Both know they don't deserve to--" her dark eyes go from him to the huge empty castle built by the first king of Westeros' orders, and Lester Morrigen can’t help but chuckle at her reaction "Westeros has no only king since Daenerys Targaryen was rejected by all those who lived her father's madness."

"Look at me in the eye and tell me you are sure the Targaryens won't put their eyes on Westeros again. They did thrice, with the Conqueror and his sister-whores, with the suddenly living son of Elia Martell and that stinking lizard of Rhaegar and with that insane little girl who thought the whole continent would accept her out of nowhere. We had a relative peace with Robert Baratheon and his council, and I am quite sure the living stag spawn would do better than him now that there is no need to go to war again."


	2. Chapter 2

Durran’s Point, 331 AC

He takes a deep breath when the Baratheon flag appears on the horizon. His eyes fixed on that piece of cloth, yellow and black, dancing with the wind. It’s a small group the one he is in, escorted by the minimum amount of people to protect the heir of his house, lead by the courageous Lyn Corbray, who can’t stop talking about the time he, his brothers and his father went with Robert Baratheon, the great warrior who suffered Rhaegar Targaryen’s deliriums when he kidnapped the sweet and daring lady Lyanna. Alyn wrinkles his nose when he hears for the upteenth time how Robert’s hammer hit Rhaegar’s chest and sighs, wondering if that idea is remotely sensible.

“What’s up, lad? Worried?” Alyn looks sideways at his uncle, and he chuckles as they approach even more the huge fortress that is Storm’s End “If you get Robert’s grandchild, I give you my lady” That proposition makes him gasp.

Lyn’s lady is his Valyrian steel sword, big but light, with a red ruby catching Alyn’s eye since he was a kid. His uncle laughs and before he can even think about it, the small party stops at the front gate of the castle. He clenches his fists and looks around, remembering what he read of the Stormlander history, of how Orys Baratheon —one of his own heroes with Arthur Dayne, Lyonel Baratheon, Duncan the Tall and Gerold Hightower— slew the Storm Queen Argella Durrandon’s father during the Last Storm, how the same monarch walked undressed and gagged in chains betrayed by her own men to lord Orys, the siège of Storm’s End during Robert’s Rebellion.

They leave the horses to a pair of squires outside the huge building, and the whole crew’s lifted spirit faints when one of the kids say that the lady Meredyth has received suitors for two days at least: shooting stars, vultures, flowers, lions and even suns. 

“They don’t have my charm” he shrugs his shoulders and starts walking into the castle itself, ready to face whatever the Gods want.

Once in the great hall, a young page guides them through a big corridor with tapestries at both sides of it, showing great moments in the Stormlands’ history, and Alyn finds them inspiring.

When the boy stops at the entrance of the throne hall, the sight he finds on that sunny day leaves him speechless. Huge large windows letting the shining sun illuminate the room, a clean and organized space with the Throne of the Storm Kings presiding it, and a small —at least smaller than him— and thin lady standing before it, with a group of lords making a sort of small aisle at both sides of her. Alyn remembers maester Lewyn’s lessons and recognizes a pair of houses there —Estermont and Bar Emmon—, and the sight of a tall and powerful man with a golden right hand makes him want to gasp for air.

“My lady” an old man, solemn and as tall as the Lion of Lannister but quite older than him speaks, and the woman turns to face him, letting Alyn observe her black mane of hair, tied up on a long braid “Lord Velaryon” 

When the old man looks back at him with both eyebrows raised, almost expecting, Alyn clenches his fists for a moment and draws his sword, making all of the men there threaten to do the same, but when he lays a part of his blade on his other hand, they all stand still, observing him.

“Your highness, my name is Alyn Velaryon. I have sailed from Driftmark just for a chance to share the same space with you” when she faces him and grins, containing for a moment a cackle he doesn’t understand her reaction and tries to ignore it, giving just some steps and leaving his sword on the floor before returning to his position “I will not praise your honor and beauty, nor the ancient history of your house because that is not what a woman like you should hear from all the men who come here searching for your hand in marriage.”

“And what should I hear, lord Velaryon?” 

Her voice is direct and clear, far from the one a sweet naïve lady would have, and when she starts talking she also approaches him, with all eyes fixed on her, and something inside him screams when her voice awakes a memory from a pillow house on Lys a pair of moons before. He swallows hard when she stops by his sword and asks for his permission to observe it with attention.

“I am no liar, lady Baratheon. When the rumor of Robert Baratheon’s only granddaughter was single I thought the trip from Driftmark would be worth just for a moment with that woman to be able to see with my own eyes if she is at least half as fierce and has at least half the spunk his Majesty has.”

“Lord Corbray can tell you better than myself” she says, observing the sword “Nice blade, by the way.”

As she stands and approaches him, Lyn starts praising the virtues the young stag had when he met him, and Alyn has to make great efforts to not say anything inappropriate as their gazes meet.

“I will give you half an hour, Alyn Velaryon. Alone with me. If you manage to convince me in thirty minutes we will meet the Council.” she starts to walk towards a door placed in the opposite corner of the room, with everybody frozen “Come on, Alyn!”

Once they are alone, on a balcony half way to the Maester’s rooms, she stops and cackles properly. Her laughter, light and sincere, makes him almost blush. If that woman has the future of her house and its lands over her shoulders she carries it pleasantly.

“You bigmouth” she manages to say between laughters “Are you still going to pay me double than my client?”

Of course she had recognized him, there is no doubt about that, and to have that first impression already given makes Alyn sick, thinking more about Lady Forlorn than his mother’s schemes.

“I am sorry if I mistreated you then. You are a beautiful woman and you have to agree with me that you weren’t precisely dressed as a one, that can lead to misunderstandings like that one specially from people who have no idea who you really are” she looks at him and grins before sitting down on one of the stone steps.

“You are not the first to come here searching for marriage”

“I know” he sits in front of her, on the floor, observing her, finding her as appealing as she looked back at the pillow house.

“What do you have to offer me? Screw the Council, my aunt, my granddad and the rest of the Stormlanders. If I marry you and give you and our children the legacy of my ancestors what do I get?”

This time the smile appears on his lips. A crooked one, as when he is teased.

“I know you have had to meet other suitors, and I’m sure they are as greedy as anybody could be, Meredyth. I give three fucks about your legacy and your land’s history, because I would rule it as if it was Driftmark, but bigger and connected to land with noisy neighbours messing around from time to time. I want to protect you, to warm you on cold days, to cheer you up if you are upset and to learn from you everything about the Stormlands. I can offer myself to you, completely, and despite I find storms are somewhat impressive, I’d willingly stand all of them just to have the chance to be next to you.” Her sapphire eyes on him are more impressive than the storms he doesn’t like, but her silence is what doesn’t let him find comfort on that spring morning “What!?”

“Stop that shit. Talk with your guts and not with your brains.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Got me.” she grins and licks her lips, and for the first time he notices them, slightly plump and kissable, with a small scar on one side of her lower one “I desired you two moons ago and I still do. I think you don’t deserve to get the worst part of the Pact of the Queens; it’s not your fault that your aunt negotiated with her arse. If you marry me, apart from what I said before, I will give you half the eastern coast of Westeros for you to rule. They want five queens? Okay, but with our conditions” a spark on her eyes as she leans towards him encourages him “The Vale is not pleased with Sansa Stark’s govern, and I’m sure we could do something with the ironborn to get a good piece of the Riverlands under our realm. I offer you the chance to sit your cute butt on a throne on King’s Landing and get more lands the Durrandon’s ever had.”

She nods and stands up. He does the same out of instinct.

“No Valyrian names to our children.”

“Agree.”

“The eldest keeps Storm’s End and the second, Driftmark.”

“Agree.”

“If you ever go to a whorehouse or get a lover without me agreeing to it I’ll cut your balls and wear them in a necklace.”

His lips curve in a cracked smile as their gazes meet again, and he can see fire on those piercing eyes of hers.

“Agree.”

“Okay. All settled then” as a young man was walking on the yard, she spots him and leans a bit over the bannister “Benji! Tell lord Lannister and my granddad to gather the Council. Now!” when the dark haired boy nods and leaves the yard running, she returns to his side “Benjicot Bar Emmon. His dad is reaaaaally lame, but he’s a nice kid. Shall we go?”


End file.
